surgi-ma-callit-itis

April 1, 2011

Remember when I said Hotter was way sick? Well, he's STILL like that. He's not any worse, but he's also not any better. Symptoms include GI malaise, lower-abdominal pain that seems tied to position (one day his body had to be straight, the next he had to be bent, and today he's just all-around miserable), fever, and body aches. He doesn't look AWFUL but he doesn't look all that good either.

I wouldn't have a whole lot of sympathy except that his donor organs are both housed in his lower abdomen, so. Yeah.

I have to leave in half an hour and go to a job-training thingy that is supposed to take about two hours. Hotter was groaning and carrying on this morning in a "could be man-flu, could be The Beginning Of The End" sort of way, so in deciding whether or not to cancel, I resorted to my Litmus Test of Last Resort.

"You know," I said casually, "technically lower-abdominal pain with fever is one of those things we're ALWAYS supposed to call Dr. Kidney* about."

"Uh huh."

"And if I call Dr. Kidney and tell her that you have a fever and lower abdominal pain, she's going to tell us to go straight to the ER at Local Teaching Hospital. Does it hurt THAT much, or are you being a drama-llama?"

Alrighty, then. So I'm going to the training-thing, and I'll re-assess when I get back.

* Awww...it's their anniversary today!

** Um, yeah, when he had surgi-ma-callit-itis he was crying for Dr. Kidney and Local Teaching Hospital's ER like a little bitch, so this means that a) his sense of humor is still intact and b) this is somewhere between "man-flu" and "not YET a surgical emergency."

January 15, 2011

* This sudden windfall increase in my contract hours along with unbloggable factors working out for the better means that BlogHer '11 is TOTALLY HAPPENING, PEOPLE. Which? Is very exciting! WHO WILL BE THERE? HOLLER LOUDLY!

* As far as the other factor making life easier, it's not something I feel comfortable discussing in light of certain...ahem...parties but what little I CAN say is that it is on Hotter's side of things, not mine and is something we've been holding on "until." Until has nearly come! Appointments to work out the details are made! WHOO TITS!

* Because I had started pursuing all (and I do mean ALL) possible avenues for increasing our household income during the worst of the Summer of Surgi-ma-callit-itis/Isis Mange Massacree in Four-Part Harmony before the good news that came on my birthday, other things were also in the works that were more along the lines of "cast a wide net just in case." One of those things was a proposal to a potential sponsor not only for their sponsorship of MFA Mama but also for some freelance work in some of my areas of expertise...it's something that I've DREAMED of doing and if it works out this could be very, very exciting. Hotter and I are meeting with the husband-and-wife head honchos of Mystery Company on Monday for a sit-down and it looks like this will most DEFINITELY be made of win, it's just a question of how much. INORITE???

* Two dogs snoring after getting to run to their hearts' content in the empty fields behind a nearby subdivision. Isis really is a thing of beauty when she runs lately; she's amazingly graceful after months of adolescent clumsiness even when you DON'T compare her to Bumpus.

* Sweetmeat [ETA: this, not "sweetbreads" or thymus glands, because GROSS] marinating in fresh ginger and garlic, sesame soyaki, and sake for a celebratory dinner. Also, someone will probably have to drink the rest of the bottle in order to avoid wastefulness. The rest of the weekend alone with my husband and free of work or family responsibilities.

October 21, 2010

* Yes, I finally did get my Pristiq in time to avoid going all emo. Yay for drugs! Boo to Express Scripts, YOU HEAR THAT EXPRESS SCRIPTS MAIL ORDER PHARMACY? YOU SUCK. Those of you who are new around here may be wondering why all the vitriol: this is why, and also this although I kind of have to give them props for their creativity--they're so determined, for whatever reason, to keep me from having my antidepressants that when I started filling those at a greater cost LOCALLY because I stopped trusting Express Scripts to handle that, they froze my bank account for three days (perhaps in retaliation?) to keep me from obtaining my drugs locally. CRAFTY! So, yeah. Express Scripts: They screw me so much my husband is starting to get jealous. *rimshot*

* Don't forget, guest post going up tonight over at Meredith's place (around 8:30 p.m. EST). Meredith, like me, is a lapsed Jew who wears glasses, bakes a lot, and has kind of a thing about her long, pretty hair. Biz introduced us on the Twitter, and she's become kind of like the younger, better-looking sister I never wanted! (<3 you, Meredith)

* The chickens laid three eggs today, but one was a double-yolker so I'm calling it three and a half. GET IT TOGETHER, CHICKENS. THERE ARE EIGHT OF YOU.

* Isis seems to be feeling great overall and the Lymphnode of DOOM is down to the size of a marble (after growing to the size of a golfball Tuesday morning). YAY! Unfortunately, she's now limping more with that one leg that she's been favoring off and on, and we can't find anything stuck in her pads or any swelling or anything to explain this. She has an appointment to see Dr. Brightside for a re-check tomorrow anyway and I guess we'll ask about it again and maybe get it x-rayed then (to be fair, the last time he saw her she was trying to die on his table so her sometimes-wonky leg was pretty far down the list on things to worry about). I wish I didn't have such a bad feeling about this, but I'm thinking either hip dysplasia or some kind of godawful bone cancer with the way OUR luck is running. I hope I'm wrong.

* I'm cranky today because I have stress-acne that needs its own place-setting at the dinner table. Seriously, I look like I'm rocking some Smallpox. Not cool, body. NOT. COOL.

* Also, my new-to-me coat arrived and fits perfectly, except that it's REALLY tight in the bust. I am hoping that when I lose this stress-weight (thanks a lot, Hotter-with-your-summer-of-hospitalizations and Isis, the Dog Who Is Determined To Die) the girls will shrink down some. Also I haven't worn a bra in a couple of weeks because even the double-D grandma bra I bought at a special bra shop where I had to get measured and groped while topless won't contain me anymore. Don't worry, I wear tanktops with shelf-bras in them under layers if we have to go anywhere where decorum is required (so pretty much to the doctor or the vet--sorry, Kroger, Post Office, and Pharmacy). Hotter thinks this is awesome. I'm just glad our house is a rancher, because if I'm going down stairs in a hurry I have to hold 'em still with my hands. Yes, really. My grandmother had this weird condition where her tits grew until she died, and I'm starting to think I'm doomed to the same fate, which means that in ten years or so I'm probably going to have to consider a reduction. Greeeeeat.

* Why yes, yes I DO still have that Deadline of Suck, and maybe I AM procrastinating just a little bit (okay fiiiine, I'm talking about my tits on the innernet and not even getting paid for it, so I'm DEFINITELY procrastinating...wait, no, it's still Breast Cancer Awareness Month--CHECK YOUR TITS, Y'ALL! There, now it counts as my good deed of the day--you're WELCOME).

June 30, 2010

I have no earthly idea what is going on, although my best guess would be
that last
week's "Hail Mary" emergency procedure has, in fact, failed as
everyone predicted. The other possibility would be that the
surgi-ma-callit-ectomy was not the "fix" for these recurrent bouts of
horrid epigastric pain Hotter's been having, and we're back to the
drawing board entirely on that (the surgeons' best guess as to what
they'd need to do if Hotter still had more attacks involved cutting him
from hipbone to hipbone, removing loads of adhesions, and installing
some synthetic material to hold his guts together so honestly I'm rather
HOPING the Hail Mary has failed). Either way, after spending much of the night awake either whimpering (him) or fetching pain pills and threatening to call an ambulance (me), I ended up saying to Hotter what we always say when one of us is headed to the ER or the OR:

"Be good. NO DYING!"

The paramedics got a kick out of that, but I could barely even manage a smile, because it was six in the goddamn morning and already the day had included a 911 call and honestly? I'm more than a little bit sick of this.

June 26, 2010

This is still just a placeholder, and I have loads to tell you about in-laws and MFA Puppy and the children and life, but am about to pass the fuck out. I wanted to let everyone know first, though, that Hotter surprised the entire transplant team by getting his shit together and not requiring the second surgery, to the point that this afternoon they let me take him home. I have only JUST NOW stopped running around like a crazy person, because I had to hand the MFA Children over to the pleasant clone of the XY the aliens left us, and go back to the hospital and sleep a little bit, and then pack Hotter up for discharge this morning, bring him home, pick up four different prescriptions from two different pharmacies and do a bunch of catch-up watering and mowing, and then we had a late dinner featuring mashed red potatoes and green beans from the garden, and now we're getting ready for an early bedtime. Utter physical and emotional exhaustion has NEVER FELT SO GOOD and also I may have had a couple of adult beverages, because, well, obviously.

It'd be alright with me if shit stopped happening so fast for a bit now, how about you?

June 23, 2010

The surgery was successful and Hotter is stable. They're going to leave him on the IV antibiotics and just watch him for a couple of days; it's still possible they'll have to go back in, wash him out, do some work on his liver and install a temporary drain but they're trying to be conservative and keep it minimally-invasive given his immunosuppression and general precarious health right now. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your comments, Twitter replies, good thoughts and well-wishes; I'm heading out shortly to see him while the MFA Children are at visitation and will keep you posted. I don't know what I'd do without all of you with me from inside the computer. SQUISH!

I have no idea what is going on, except that apparently the ERCP did not go well. The surgeon who called me to get consent mentioned placing some kind of stent in the liver, and a ten percent chance of complications that would then carry a 20% chance of "mortality" and something about a blood transfusion and I was just all "YES, I understand, I consent to whatever you think is best, please do it" but he insisted on telling me about three or four more ways that this could end in my husband dying and then having me confirm my understanding and consent to a second surgeon as a telephone "witness" and I really didn't understand that well at all but I just wanted them to get off the goddamn phone and go FIX him.

I can't even take an Ativan because as soon as the XY arrives for Daddy Dinner Night at four I need to be able to drive like a bat out of hell to be there when Hotter wakes up.

* Last night things looked bad. VERY bad. Hotter was satting in the low nineties on six liters of humidified oxygen, CT scans were showing possible fluid build-up around the donor kidney, and he sounded...well, I'll spare him a public sharing of the details, but he sounded awful, y'all.

* I made myself a stiff drink and went to bed, where for the first time in almost a week I slept eight hours straight.

* While I was passed out, Hotter was getting his act together in a big way over at Local Teaching Hospital; last night's MRI showed NO fluid around the kidney, decreased fluid around the liver (to the point where they're no longer worried about that), and he is now OFF oxygen support entirely (with a pulse ox of 95, which isn't great but is better than he was managing on an arse-load of oxygen yesterday).

* At this point he is still there because a) they want to see how it goes when he eats something, which aside from some ramen on Sunday he hasn't really done since Thursday and b) before they have him eat something, they want to do a few more tests including an ultrasound of his abdomen, because when one of their peeps falls apart in such spectacular fashion the transplant team likes to leave no stone unturned (for which I applaud them--I want ANSWERS and when I do bring Hotter back home I want to feel reasonably certain he won't pull another boomerang on us and have to go right back in via the godawful Local Teaching Hospital ER).

* If today's test results are all good, Hotter is hoping they'll send him home tomorrow. He sounded crabby and rather put out about being at Club Med today, which is always a good sign.

* I haven't been able to find it in myself to care about this even a little bit until today, but right before Hotter went back in-patient my lodging arrangements for BlogHer kind of fell apart, and apparently that trusting the universe thing is still crap if you're me. The universe is still a cunt. So please let me know if you need a roommate (I'm fine with sharing a bed or hell, I'll sleep on the floor!), and also let me know if you're trying to acquire a full conference pass, because I'm starting to think my getting to BlogHer this year is a lost cause (dammit).

* My mother-in-law. Lord, y'all. The very least I can say about her right now is that she promised Hotter she'd come down here to see him, but then remembered that it's been 6,000 miles since her last oil change, refused to let Loud and Crazy (my brother-in-law) change her oil (which he is perfectly capable of doing, mind you, it's not that he isn't), and then refused to let Loud and Crazy take her car to Big and Scary (my other brother-in-law, who is a professional mechanic) and let HIM do it, and that is her official reason for not coming to visit her son in ICU: she is overdue for an oil change. Discuss!

ETA: Well, shit y'all. I just spoke with one of the surgeons and the chief radiologist reviewed Hotter's MRI from last night and determined that they ARE concerned about the fluid around the liver, it has NOT decreased (although it has also not INCREASED dramatically, which is kind of the best possible worst-case scenario), and it is, in fact, bile. Which is undesirable to have leaking in your abdominal cavity. They're leaving him NPO and doing an ERCP this afternoon to figure out whether the bile is coming from one of the ducts they clipped during surgery or from the liver itself (which is what they currently suspect). If that is in fact the case they're going to have to open his incision back up, wash him out, possibly do some minor repairs, and place a drain. He is NOT coming home tomorrow but at least they're closer to figuring this out?

June 22, 2010

* Last night Hotter was in horrible pain, and he finally asked me to take him to the ER so you know it was bad. I dropped my husband off, tracked the XY down (on a date, the poor bastard) and dumped the three over-tired MFA Children on him, and doubled back to the ER.

* Hotter's white count was trending upward, a CT-scan revealed a pocket of fluid where they operated, and while we were waiting he spiked a temp, so they admitted him.

* Currently he's in the Transplant ICU with O2 sats in the low nineties despite six liters of humidified oxygen and doped up on a morphine PCA. The nurse still described him as "miserable" when I called to check a moment ago.

* Yes, I had to leave him there, which I hate, hate, hate, because the XY missed work again and was not pleased (although the displeasure of the newly personality-transplanted, post-alien-abduction XY is prefaced by genuine-sounding inquiries into how Hotter is faring and how I'm holding up, and I may have been hallucinating from exhaustion at one point today but I'm pretty sure that part was real).

* So I came home this morning, but then the XY didn't actually return the children after all, and I don't even care because I really needed to sleep and did in fact crash hard after fourteen hours of sleep in ninety-six hours.

* Don't even ask me how I am, because hell if I know besides "abjectly fucking grateful my shrink doubled the antidepressant last time I saw him, because damn."

* Infection in a transplant patient on immunosuppressive drugs is bad though, and most of the really strong antibiotics that treat things that pop up while someone is already on Cipro post-op are hard on the kidneys even if you have two factory-original ones, and well, shit, I think my feelings are hungry for another box of Jalapeno poppers and half a bottle of ranch dressing and an ice-cream sandwich and some pretzels with cheese. Also it would be very nice if the puppy was already here so I could snuggle with her. The bird is happy to let me scratch her head for as long as I'd like but draws the line at spooning. So that's how I am I guess.